


A Flash of Magic

by Corialus



Category: Rainy Day Dreams (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, F/F, Psychic dream space, School, Smooch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 21:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17495654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corialus/pseuds/Corialus
Summary: Tristin gets stuck in Mara's memory of herself as the same age as Tristin.





	A Flash of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate continuation of page 395: http://rainydaydreams.mariahcurrey.com/comic/page-395/

Ethereal wings burst from Mara’s back and a flash of magic flooded the room. The shout of Mara’s name hardly escaped Tristin’s mouth before being consumed by rushing force. Only at the last moment does Tristin turn away, shield her eyes, and then fall into darkness.  
Consciousness crawls back to the surface and Tristin floats in confusion and chaos. She spins slowly with no sense of direction, becoming aware of the knee-length formal dress fluttering on her where her casual clothes were before. Like stars, tiny glowing spots of warmth appear in the distance. Tristin concentrates on one below her and sinks through the void until the light comes into focus: it’s a scene, surrounded by vacuum, complete and isolated, of a young girl swinging a stick like a sword. The child’s hair is fire-red and her expression, distorted by the reverse of age, is recognizable as Mara’s.  
“I’m… in Mara’s past?” Tristin wheels around, taking in once more all the spots of light. “These are Mara’s memories and I’m in her head?” Panic and wonderment meet within Tristin. By concentrating, the void rushes airlessly past her bringing memories closer and moving others farther. Disoriented by the motion of the endless expanse, Tristin curls up her legs to make herself smaller. “I wish I knew what was going on.”  
“I don’t know what happened!” A small voice echoed in the distance. Tristin looked up, suddenly broken from her trance, towards the origin of the voice and saw another memory of Mara, young and distraught. So many memories, scattered and fragmented.  
An idea struck. Wiping away tears she didn’t realize had begun falling, Tristin focuses once more on the various memories. “What if Mara can help me? These are her memories after all!” She selects a target and moves in.

Tristin floats on the edge of memory, one of violence and adversity, centered on older teenaged Mara in a school. As the tension of the scene mounts, the void becomes less stable. The sensation of falling, as if in a nightmare, lurches in the pit of Tristin’s stomach, but she holds on. She reaches out, as if for the young Mara’s hand. Tristin tumbles and floats underneath the memory, around it, and comes up on the other side—the other side of the event, when Mara is alone, defiant but still hurt.  
“Mara.” Tristin reaches out to the image of Mara, who seems right in front of her, but somehow too far to touch. “Can you hear me?” The teenaged Mara distorts and a haze of rage burns from within. “Mara, it’s just a memory. This isn’t really happening! You can control this, right?”  
The young Mara looks up with a jerk and glances around, confused and alert. “Who’s there?”  
“Mara! It’s me! It’s Tristin!” Tristin excitedly moves closer, floating on another side of a veil that neither can perceive.  
“I don’t know any Tristins. Is this another prank?” Energy radiates from Mara and begins to seep through the invisible barrier.  
“No, I promise. I need help, but I think I need to help you too. We’re stuck here, in a memory and we need to get back.” Tristin can feel the pressure of Mara’s aura, her mind, reaching out to investigate. A hesitant hand attempts to make contact again, this time hovering just above Mara’s shoulder. “Mara, can you see me?”  
Mara’s stern expression scans her surroundings, homing in on Tristin’s presence. From Mara’s perspective, her psychic acuity has taken hold of a shape. The shape swells with emotion and, as Mara attempts to contain it, shimmers into the image of girl her own age. “I’ve got you now.”  
“Good!” The force of Mara’s attention becomes a physical pressure over the entirety of Tristin’s body as she crosses the threshold of the memory. Gravity becomes an immediate concern and Tristin stumbles forward, gasping. Mara catches the dream girl in her arms and rights her up.  
“So you’re Tristin? You seem familiar, but-” Mara is struck with a blush that blossoms across her whole face. Shaking her head quickly, her reserve returns. “You… you know me?”  
“Yes! I do! Or, I will? I’m not really sure.” Tristin unthinkingly paws at Mara’s face in excitement and pulls her into a close hug. “I’m so happy I found you and you can talk to me!”  
Mara pushes Tristin back gently to face her. “Why do you feel this way about me?” Tristin’s thoughts crackle like radio broadcasts, battering against Mara’s mental shield. A slight blush seeps back in, “How can you feel this strongly about me? I don’t even know you.”  
“It’s complicated and weird, but it’s okay!” Tristin thinks for a moment, sizing up Mara in her school uniform, standing in what looks like a spacious academy hallway that hasn’t fully rendered. “So you’re my age and you only remember and know what you know at this age?”  
“That’s an odd question, but yes.” Mara studies Tristin, her friendly and energetic body language, the evidence of recent emotional distress, the flood of affection spilling from her thoughts. “Do you know me in a different timeline?”  
“Yes! Or, something like that. Close enough!” Tristin excitedly dives in for another hug—of course Mara would figure it out, as smart as she is. “We’re, um… how do I explain…”  
“Are we in love?” Mara asks bluntly, as if solving a puzzle before her.  
“Um!” Tristin flashes a deep red and stammers for a moment and trails off.  
“You have so much affection for me, not just physical attraction, but you have a very deep love for me. I think I could love you too. It’s hard to tell, not really knowing you.” Mara laughs, a little awkward as Tristin covers her own face. “You said this was a memory?”  
“I don’t actually know, but I think so.” A topic to focus on helps Tristin recover a fraction of composure. “I think we’re in some kind of mental plane? And I’m a different version of me and you’re a different version of you.”  
“And you found me all the same.” Mara places a comforting hand on Tristin’s cheek and all strength in Tristin’s knees immediately vacates. “A mental plane? I should be able to shape it then. Maybe I can make a way out for us.”  
“Really? You can do that?”  
“I think so.” Mara closes her eyes and Tristin stills her breath, gazing at this alternate version of the woman she adores, a version at a similar place in her life, without the details of their particular history between. The walls shift and the ceiling ripples; the tiles on the floor fracture into complex tessellations; the air buzzes with electricity. Both girls turn and face a new presence, heavy with psychic energy: a door where none had been before.  
“A door?” Tristin glances back to Mara.  
“It will take you back out. I don’t think I’m supposed to leave.”  
“How do you know?” Tristin struggles in vain to keep the wistfulness from her voice.  
“You have another version of me to get back to, don’t you?” Mara takes Tristin’s hand in hers, applying a gentle squeeze. The door slowly swings open, the other side glowing with ethereal light that washes out into the hallway. Looking at the light stings like the blinding burst that launched her here, so she looks back towards Mara. “It’s okay. You found me here. I trust you’ll find me again.”  
Mara pulls Tristin’s hand, leading her body closer to her own, and trailing her hand upwards along her arm, alighting on the side of her face and sliding into her hazelnut hair. As Tristin’s breath catches in her mouth, Mara brings her in and kisses her. The psychic static crackles throughout her whole body and Tristin becomes weightless again, floating; light overwhelms every sensation. She falls backwards, as if collapsing into a wave of plush.

Tristin wakes up in a gasp. She’s back in Mara’s manor, Mara and Michael sitting by her side. Bewildered, Tristin blurts, “What just happened!?”  
Michael quietly explains that Mara had a psychic breakdown—a term which Mara immediately opposed—and he was stuck in her memories. He looked for Tristin, but was ejected from them with a sensation of falling. Already a touch chagrined at not having looked for Michael as he had done for her, Tristin realizes that she had pushed through that sensation and stayed.  
Tristin only glosses over her experience in Mara's memories, borrowing from Michael a version of an equally brief lapse. Mara's expression, however, pierces through the untruth and carried a warmth that utterly disarmed Tristin.


End file.
